


Legacies

by towards



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, M/M, Sibling Incest, vincent never got shot au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 22:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13936503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towards/pseuds/towards
Summary: The SOLDIER program had been disbanded long before the start of the war. Some cited ethical failings, others pointed out the astronomical cost that ultimately meant nothing, and again others assumed that it was due to the instability that came with that much power. Nero could not remember much of that time, only that SOLDIERs were both adored and loathed by the public and had contributed greatly to the fall of their nation. Though the ShinRa corporation remained, it was no longer a governing force in the world. And it’s SOLDIERs slipped quietly into the abyss.He and Weiss remained the last of a dying legacy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so, i don't fully remember the context of this! but i think it goes something like this.
> 
> vincent was never shot. lucrecia ended up keeping custody of sephiroth. vincent ended up going back to shinra and worked his way up through the ranks, subtly sabotaging the soldier program. he and lucrecia worked to discredit and disband the program for being unethical. he married nero and weiss' mother briefly, she had nero, but they ended up divorced as both of them were career focused. vincent eventually found out she was subjecting weiss and nero to experiments after weiss grabbed nero and showed up on his doorstep pleading for help.
> 
> nero and vincent don't get along but they love each other dearly. vincent's mostly just concerned that everything the boys went through means they'll never have a normal life, and he's partly right.
> 
> nero and weiss have some v.c. andrews flowers in the attic shit going on. it takes them ages to grow out of it but they remain extremely, uncomfortably close even when they do.

Our muses are destined to be frenemies, the friendly rivalry is just the spice of life and motivation they need, without the soft touch.

He meets the woman that could have been his mother in the emergency room, bundled up under thick blankets and pressed tightly to his father’s side. They’re full, they say, there was a sixteen car pileup on the highway. All hands are busy and all rooms are full. Other patients the most attention the blue-lipped boy gets in the first two hours is the promise that it wouldn’t be much longer, and into the fourth he’s inclined to believe that was a lie. An ice pack is later given for his head, which is held gently against the worst of the bumps. They give his father accusatory stares but they don’t have the time to do anything, to call child services and save him from what surely looks like a bad situation, and Vincent Valentine doesn’t have the energy to argue that it’s not what it seems.

When she approaches, creeping into hour six, he is nearly asleep (never quite, he is always brought back with the gentle reminder that it’s dangerous to do that) but rouses at the shocked sound of his father’s voice. He can’t *breathe* and words fail him when he tries to alert someone to this. Everything is distant and foggy but the remnants of the conversation linger even as he slips into blissful unconsciousness, listening to their horror as he vomits blood onto his father’s lap.

The woman that would have been his mother is named Doctor Lucrecia Crescent and has hands as cold as the person who was. The only difference is these hands are gentle, and these hands repair the damage that the other left behind on his skin. Vincent hovers at his bedside, keeps a hold of his hand (his grip is awkward and uncertain, Vincent Valentine is not the sort of father who attends the baseball games that Nero never played or viewed the recitals that he did, work has always been the priority) and promises that he’ll be well again and that he’ll fix this.

Nero isn’t sure there is anything left to “fix”.

She talks to him quietly now and again. Saying, “you have your father’s eyes” as she replaces an IV, or sharing an anecdote about his father when he was young when taking his blood. He knows it’s a ploy to get his trust, knows it and does not indulge in it. She speaks and he listens but does not respond, instead he stares at the wall. He doesn’t fuss much, he’s a good boy. He obeys everything without question and doesn’t shed a tear or acknowledge the praise when the needle is over and done with.

“He’s always been a sick boy,” Vincent says, “but the situation made it worse.”

They speak on professional terms and nothing more. The deepest conversation they have in the months he’s there

Dr. Crescent tells him he won’t see his mother again. She tells him Weiss is coming and the apathy dies there, he panics and cries and begs to see his brother *now*. Cries because he’s not sure if he was good enough, if he was strong enough, and they sedate him so he doesn’t hurt himself any further. Weiss walks - no, runs - through the door and holds him so tight his broken ribs hurt, but that’s fine.

It’s all going to be fine.

The weeks crawl by but eventually he is infection free. His bones heal, he regains his strength, and from there he is lost. The good doctor attempts to engage his father in conversation, but he has little of it. His father is often on the phone, often talking to ShinRa or a lawyer or something inbetween. He does not hold Nero’s hand again after Weiss comes, and that suits them both. He knows his father is director of the Turks and he knows that he is a busy, busy man who has never had the time for family or love.

What he does not know is why.

They’re told they’ll live with Vincent from now on. They do not speak of their mother until her trial, and afterwards, they pick up the pieces that her defense lawyer rips them into and move on with their lives. Nero is eight when he gets his first, real bed and a little over nine before he’s comfortable enough to sleep in it on his own.

He does not ask about Dr. Lucrecia Crescent. Vincent does not ask about the scars that are not explained in the trial. Together, they avoid the issues and into adulthood he stumbles.

Nero grows up quiet and thin, from a sick boy into a sick teen, while Weiss grows big and strong. Intellect is Nero’s gift while sports and fitness are Weiss’. He drifts towards darker fabrics, colors that blend in, while Weiss stands out in the crowd with whites and neons - they are duality, yin and yang. Brothers, the best of friends, with nothing in common but sharing everything. It makes sense then, if Weiss succeeds at all he does, that Nero ultimately fails. He does not make friends, he does not play well with others. Someone pulls his hair and his reaction, should Weiss not beat him to it, is to fight dirty and mark them up. Psychologists blame his mother and teachers blame his brother, but in the end the blame lies at the feet of fate.

He meets her at a support meeting for “troubled teens” that his father’s company orders him to go to. He picks at his nails while others spin their sob stories, listens idly while studying the chipped paint in detail, and glances up only when necessary to seem sympathetic.

“Pass,” he says when they get to him, for what is most certainly the hundredth time this year. He does not respond to their needling for more.

Nero does not share.

The new face in the group opts not to either. When asked about why she’s here, she shrugs, “I was just doing community service! Maybe not for *this* community, though.”

He lifts his eyes. She meets his gaze. She’s foreign. From Wutai - Nero suspects, though her accent is near flawless. Even if they had won the war, there were so few of them that dared set foot within the bitter capitol of their defeated nation.

“And what community were you serving?” The counselor asks.

The girl, Yuffie, holds a finger to her lips. “That’s my secret. So, pass.”

While a deviation from the norm, it continues as it always does. Therapy goes on as it always does, surface-answers and twisting words around to psycho-anaylze his own therapist. He reveals everything about his day while revealing nothing about himself, and so on, and so on.

The lights are out when he gets home. His father has left a note on the fridge - gone to meeting, order dinner. Weiss bumps the fridge closed with his hip, reaching out to rub Nero’s temples. It’s been a long day, it’s always a long day, and his brother knows just what to do to make it better. He tosses his bag aside and kisses Weiss on the mouth and they fall into bed together. Pizza is forgotten in favor of the taste of each other.

“There are a girl,” Nero says, mostly to himself between kisses, “filled with such confidence. I believe she may have frightened them.”

Weiss silences him with a bite to the lower lip.

\- - - -

Vincent doesn’t come home that night. Whatever the second in command of the Turks does, he can’t be sure, and he’s long decided he doesn’t care so long as it keeps a roof over their heads. He wakes in the early dawn and stares at the ceiling, blearily registering that he should take his medication. He sits up and feels his brother tug him back down, still asleep but aware enough to not want to be left alone. Instead, Nero rolls over and buries his face in the crook of Weiss’ neck, they sleep in without a care.

\- - - -

Weiss bites his nose lightly as they change from pajamas into day clothes, each idly scratching an injection point with mounting irritation. Surpressants, or something of the sort. They’re not told much of anything, it’s a trend that has carried on through much of their lives. Nero shoves a hoodie on over his head and Weiss brushes his hair while he washes his face.

“You going today?” His brother asks, chuckling as he cringes at a tangle.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Probably not.”

“Then I am going.”

“Good.” Weiss captures his face in both hands, smoothing the pads of his thumbs along his cheekbones.

“Good?” Nero tilts his head back to look into his brother’s eyes.

“You might make a friend.”

His lips quirk. “You did not think so last night.”

“I never said that.”

Nero twists, reaching to tug his brother down - their lips inches apart when the front door opens. Then they’re apart, feigning normality. 

Vincent tugs the knot on his tie loose and rubs his eyes, pretending he doesn't notice. “You two have an appointment to get to. Go.”

So they do.

The SOLDIER program had been disbanded long before the start of the war. Some cited ethical failings, others pointed out the astronomical cost that ultimately meant nothing, and again others assumed that it was due to the instability that came with that much power. Nero could not remember much of that time, only that SOLDIERs were both adored and loathed by the public and had contributed greatly to the fall of their nation. Though the ShinRa corporation remained, it was no longer a governing force in the world. And it’s SOLDIERs slipped quietly into the abyss.

He and Weiss remained the last of a dying legacy.

No one could accurately tell either of them what exactly it was that their mother had done - no one wanted to. Invoking her name was forbidden in the household, and any mention of the SOLDIER program was something that ShinRa itself forbade. It existed in the fringes of their minds, brought up only during monthly doctor visits and checkups to ensure Nero was well. Weiss is the epitome of health, never sick a day in his life, while Nero can scarcely remember a time where there wasn’t some problem or another weighing him down. It bothers him none, merely an adversity he has learned to contend with.

But it is irritating.

Yet it, and so many other things in his life, have simply become the norm.


	2. Chapter 2

Lady Scarlet blows into New York on a fine summer eve, crashing one of their late shows unannounced. Nero sings his heart out for the audience, for the show, for the spirit of the play - but not for her. He does not notice her until he and Yufi are gathering their coats and heading out for dinner. Scarlet catches them in the doorway, just as he makes a lazy play for her hand and she bumps his hip with her own and tells him to behave.

By then it’s too late to deny.

“My, my,” she says, and her voice is enough to send ice through his veins. “It looks like my little boy has grown up at long last!” Over her shoulder he sees him, holding their coats and grinning a grin split ear to ear.

Her laugh is sandpaper on his ears. Nero’s mouth runs dry and his eyes widen, her smile is a slash and he can think of nothing better to do than grab his partner’s hand and storm out into the crowd. Losing her midst the bodies, long strides that Yufi struggles to keep up with carrying them to her place. She’s full of questions, demanding answers, yelling at him to let go and stop being a jackass but he ignores it all.

It’s only when they get to her apartment that he lets go. She wheels around at him, demands to know just who the hell he thinks he is and she’s had more than enough of his mind games. There’s no witty remark on his part, no biting comment to silence her and win the argument.

“Nero,” Her tangent dies. Yufi’s hand touches his arm and he flinches. “You’re shaking.”

He composes himself in the bathroom and calls Weiss to warn him. Saying nothing to her, no who the woman was or what had upset him. A solid, agonizing week passes before he rolls over and says that his mother is a bitch and she married the devil. “Hell is hotter than they say,” dripping with sarcasm, cryptic and mumbled into a rumpled pillow. He’s not sure she understands until his hand is lifted from the bed and she traces the faded spiral scar on his palm, and that’s the closest to tenderness that they ever get. 

“I do not want children,” he says idly, as if it really matters. This is a flirtation that will not last, just as surely as none of his brother’s girlfriends stay for more than a month. This is but a fleeting dream of normalcy that will shatter when he wakes. 

Neither brother ventures near their apartment until Vincent calls to tell them that she caught her flight back. He calls his brother next and tells him he’s heading home, but Weiss is in the area and says to wait.

There is an unspoken ‘just in case’, though they’re aware that they’re being paranoid. They’re no longer children and Midgar is bigger than their two story apartment, there is no boogeyman waiting in the darkened hallway for a misstep.

Weiss reclaims him that afternoon, glaring disdainfully down at her and wrapping an arm around Nero’s shoulders the second he steps close as if to mark his territory.

As they walk the streets, Weiss leans close. His lips brush his ear and Nero wants to shove him back, wants to hiss that they're in public and he shouldn’t be risking any of this - but he doesn’t.

“Nobody loves you like I do." 

Instead, he leans closer.


End file.
